Already feeling pretty under the weather following a Moment of Madness which saw me gobbling down a Chicken Fillet Burger from my local Kensy Lick’n Chick’n, my mood has been significantly worsened by the sight of that tedious expondent of the “life’s like that” school of quirkiness known as Zoe Williams.
This writer, whose role on the Guardian is to bore people senseless with the inanities of her “sideways look at life” when they’ve got some column inches to fill on a quiet news day has only somehow got pregnant. Which means that for the next 18 fucking years we’re going to be exposed to her banal observations on pregnancy, childbirth and motherhood.
Been thinking about it for a while, but this depressing development suggests that it's time to leave this country for good.
sometimes you do do that...
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